Abandoned Nests
by CornflowerDollz123
Summary: Albus and Minerva have had a fight, and Minerva has left. Rubbish summary, but pleased give it a try!


The wind had blown itself up into a frenzy; screaming, screeching, shrieking.

The rain pounded down, the raindrops hurled the ground, each one appearing to have a personal grudge against the winding path with its wild, overgrown hedgerows, and its sodden carpet of autumn leaves, trampled on by the feet of many.

Unfastened cloak flapping wildly, soaking ribbons of hair streaming behind her, hastily snatched scarf whipping lethally.

Minerva McGonagall was a tempest, a thunderstorm, a hurricane. A blaze of fury surged through her, face alight with pure poison to send even the most courageous of men scurrying.

Inside, a heart was pounding a furious tattoo against a throat. Blood gushed in eats. Teeth gritted, jaw set. Nostrils flared and emerald eyes, their eyelashes darkened by the mixture of rain and tears clinging to them, narrowed to dangerous slits.

In the distance a defeated figure cried out once more; a raw, pure, desperate call. The man with silver hair, who had once stood tall and proud, now crumbled and fell.

On the outside, the ebony-haired witch with the grim expression stormed along the path, her eyes blank to her dismal surroundings.

On the inside, fiery rage was consuming everything in its path, leaving a vicious trail of destruction. Frustration bubbled like venom, then flared, ripping through her body like the jaws of a snarling wolf. Overpowering and terrible.

She didn't hear the howls of the cruel wind, nor the relentless driving rain. She didn't feel her hair whipping her across her face or the twigs snapping beneath her sensible, sturdy shoes.

She didn't feel the icy chill of the wind whistling through her drenched clothing. Her white-knuckled hands, clenched in her pockets, didn't even feel with empty lemon drop wrappers nor the notes filled with tender words passed secretly during staff meetings from long ago in a distant land.

Instead she heard the shrill shrieks, the yells of frustration, resentment and bitterness. She heard the shattering of a china cup of tea, the slam of a portrait and the crunch of one set of feet on the gravel pathway.

She felt the sting of hurled insults, fury exploding like an erupting volcano, and the tragedy of feeling very, very alone. Alone. Alone…

This swooping sense of emptiness made her striding steps falter, then come to a stop. She became aware of the roaring wind and noticed for the first time that the sky was weeping.

Minerva's knees buckled and her balled fists became limp. She placed her back against a gnarled tree, drawing her knees up to her chest. The overpowering anger meekly subsided to be replaced with a flood of loneliness and nostalgia and remorse.

The midnight wind made her shiver, and clutching at her knees even more tightly, the witch found herself desperately wishing to hide away forever. To never have to face reality. A growing sense of numbness was spreading, not only to her gloveless fingers, but to her heart.

Time was passing, but how much time was unknown. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Minerva McGonagall sat in a trance, staring but not seeing, hearing but not listening.

The wind had blown itself out, the rain had eased. Everything was still. The angry clouds had drifted away and in the velvet sky was the sliver of the silver moon.

The only sound was the gentle breathing of the pensive witch and the soft hoot of a swooping owl. Flying home. To its nest. To its family.

She wondered what has happening at her nest. Memories of chess games and comforting embraces echoed in her mind. The smell of lemon drops and warmth and acceptance filled her nostrils as did the sound of the whistling kettle fill her ears.

The rough bark of the tree itched her back, and with a sudden strength of mind and decisiveness, she stood up and faced the twisting pathway to her nest. Her home. Her family.

Footsteps now, slowly at first, but quickening in pace as she realised where and with whom she belonged and wanted to be with. Once again her hair streamed out behind her, but her face was soft and comforted.

The lights of home spilled out over the grass, casting out the darkness. Half-moon glasses glinted in the starlight as a beloved face looked up in disbelief.

Minerva gave a hesitant smile, returned by a crooked grin. The crunch of two sets of feet on the gravel pathway cut through the peace of the night, as did the slam of the great castle door.

**A.N. This was my first AD/MM story, and I really enjoyed writing it. Thanks very much for reading, CornflowerDollz123. **


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